


There’s No Escaping the Past

by RougueShadowWolf



Series: 15 Minutes [186]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Child Stiles, F/M, Past Abuse, Past Peter Hale/LydiaMartin, Single Parent Lydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-20 15:30:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14264067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RougueShadowWolf/pseuds/RougueShadowWolf
Summary: Raising a child all alone wasn’t easy, it wasn’t something Lydia had ever dreamt of doing, but that was what she’d had been doing for years. It had been her choice to run, to hide, to raise her and Peter’s son alone which wasn’t easy since she constantly feared that Peter would turn-up one day.





	There’s No Escaping the Past

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings. (this was meant to be posted hours ago, but there was some issue with the internet connection again, so I'm doing it now and I'm too lazy to fix the notes) 
> 
> To those who aren't familiar with this series, know this, there is a reason for the name of this series, each tale is writen within the timespan of 15Minutes. There is very little time to focus on the finer things, such as spelling or grammar so if you can't handle it then leave now and save yourself from unneeded misery. Each tale is a small payment to my friends, this one if for my friends who is for this time around called Abandoned-Ambition (not that she has abandoned her ambitions, but perhaps I have), and she wanted a tale where Lydia is Stiles mom and Peter is his dad, but Lydia left Peter or Peter left Lydia, and Stiles doesn't really know one of his parents like at all.

There’s a chill in the air. Not a crisp and refreshing sort of a chill, but a cold and cruel one that seeped into the very bones of a person. It was the sort of a cold that seemed to slip inside every home and stay there like a ghost, haunting the very walls that had been designed to keep such a monster outside. It was an almost unnatural cold, one that left Lydia feeling like something dreadful was on its way.

Breathing in a shaky breath, Lydia gazed out over the sea, the water that appeared like chilled steel before her moving restlessly before her, she'd travelled across this water years ago in search of a new beginning. Breathing in the fresh and cold air, the hint of salt lingering on the tip of her tongue, Lydia wondered if the ghost from her past would appear in the horizon waiting to destroy the life she had built on this small island.

Shaking at the thought of her secrets crashing onto the shores where she’d made a life, a home, for herself and her son, out of her mind at least for a moment.

Trying to distract herself from her bleak thoughts Lydia sought out the dark forms of which two were running carelessly into the waves while the third watched on never trusting its companions to behave.

Turning her gaze down towards the snow-white figure wearing a knitted jumper and looking miserable was Piglet, the large almost completely white Great Dane mix really disliked autumn and winter as well as early spring, but being left behind was something Piglet loathed even more than the cold chill of the less than friendly seasons and so down to the shore he’d followed.

Taking pity on her pale companion with the coffee colored right ear, Lydia turned her attention back towards the much darker figures in the distance. 

`Hugo. ´ she called out, her voice not what it ought to be but the large Alsatian sat-up immediately, locked eyes with her, ready to do her bidding come what may.

`Boatswain. Booth. ´ were the names that followed, easing some of the strain in the body of their greying guardian, both of the large dark masses that were for once not chest deep in the icy water paused their play and turned their attention away from each other and the waves, facing their mistress with expressions full of anticipation.

`Time to head on home. ´ those were not the words the two large black dogs had wished to hear, each gentle giant taking off, hurrying further away from her.

A rather displeased and somewhat frustrated sigh escaped her then, of course this behavior was nothing new but still she’d dared to hope that for once the brothers wouldn’t pick the waves over her; of course, if her son was there calling for the two dogs both Boatswain and Booth would’ve hurried over to him like the most obedient of dogs ever, Lydia had witnessed more than once the two dogs abandoned ice-cream for her baby boy.

`Hugo, get them. ´ Lydia calls out to the previous Sheriff’s dog, a dog who until she’d walked into the station had seemed ready to just give-up on life and join its master in the after-life, but for some reason it had found a new will for life with her and her son. Immediately the ridiculously obedient dog leaped-up and gave chase, eager to herd its adopted brothers all the way home if need be.

`Come along Piglet, let’s go home. ´ Lydia says softly down to the dog that goes from looking miserable to someone positively joyful. Home was warm, dry and full of comfortable places to lay down on. While Piglet sprinted up-ahead, Lydia began the slow walk towards the wooden steps leading up the steep embankment. Although eager to escape the beach, the cold wind, Piglet was bright enough to take the stairs with an air of caution which was honestly the only times that the dog was careful with its long limbs.

With a heavy sigh, a glance down at the first step of the grand climb, Lydia began her own steep climb up the old wooden steps she’d repaired years ago and which seemed to need a fresh coat of paint after each passing of winter.

Reaching the half-way point, the sound of heavy paws and mass moving up the old steps reached her ears, causing Lydia to glance over her should. True to his nature, Hugo had wrangled his energetic and slightly wild brothers together and now up the stairs. Hugo never failed her in herding the dogs or her son, and she dreaded the day the aging dog passed away.

`Good boy Hugo. Good boy. ´ Lydia praised the old German Shepherd that had become simply because he’d picked her and refused to leave her side. The dog had chased after her when she’d left the Sheriff’s station, and that was that, Hugo became part of her life whether she’d wanted it or not.

Hearing her sing his praises seemed to please the old-dog that still seemed to have the sharpest nose of the lot, after all there had yet to be a man or woman who could smuggle drugs to the small island by the fairy without getting caught by Hugo.

Reaching the top of the stairs Lydia hurried towards the house she’d called her home for the past five-years, even with a fresh coat of paint the house with its shingles and different sized windows still looked weather worn and old, Lydia loved the small house that creaked and moaned when the wind blew. The peculiar house had a nature of its own, it refused to stay warm by the means of any other heating than burning wood in the small stove and fireplaces that inhabited most rooms of the small house, only one of two bathrooms worked all year-round, not that you could simply turn a tap to run a bath since that was a massive no. When Lydia wanted a bath, or needed to give her son one, Lydia had to pretty much do it the very old fashion way, heating the water in the large kettles and carefully mixing the boiling water with the ice-cold one that was spat out of the old faucets, which made taking baths a luxury and carefully planned and orchestrated activity.

Lydia lover her peculiar house, and so did her son, even if living there wasn’t easy. The house had flaws, it had a temper, but it suited her and her son even if it might be the reason money was tight. With every rainstorm seemed to bring forth a new leak in the roof regardless of how often Ray swore on the life of his wife and mother that he’d fixed every leak, which made Lydia question how much Ray actually loved his wife and mother.

Some would say her house was a disaster, the drunken creation of the famous drunk of the town who died by climbing up on the roof of the small church on a cold night, he’d been found the following morning frozen solid.

Lydia appreciated the eccentric nature of her house, the peculiar designs and locations of storage like the ones beneath the floorboards of the den which had been used to hide old Tim’s liquor; the remaining bottles of Tim’s alcohol treasures now helped Lydia drown out unwanted and restless thoughts, not that her son needed to know that or anyone else for that matter. The house was odd but so was she, and so was her son, which made the house perfect for the both of them.

Sitting on the lopsided porch were the four cats that had been living in the house when Lydia had bought the odd house, it seemed old-Tim was fond of felines, the fur covered inhabitants of the small house that stood at the northern part of the small island with inhabitants were highly suspicious and hostile towards her but not her son.

The feline brigade no doubt waiting for her to come home and feed them, again.

Although Lydia had never been a cat person, and had no desire to keep any of the felines occupying her home, she’d accepted them as simply a part of a house since the chances of anyone wanting for example Maximus the one-eyed beast of cat who had tiny ragged strips of ears left on its head were slim to none.

 Breaking the line of mountain ash she’d drawn outside the front-door, Lydia questioned herself on whether or not she was reasonably cautious or simply unhealthily paranoid in her actions, then again she might be a bit of both at this stage of her life. Then again, Lydia had someone to protect now, someone she had to keep safe from the dangers of her past.

Life had made sure that even before the age of sixteen that she’d never be accused of being naïve, life had also seen fit to drill into her head that one could never simply trust a lock on the door to keep evil outside.

Unlocking the old wooden door that under damp conditions would need a great deal of force to open and close, it was a condition shared by the windows of the house, Lydia turned her attention back to her surroundings. Lydia was aware that her fur covered friends would’ve alerted her by no to any friends or foes that may have come to trespass on the land, the cat-guards were especially unwilling to entertain anyone on what they considered their property.

 As soon as Lydia opened the door Maximus with his feline companions bolted into the house, and Piglet was quick to follow, although he did make sure that Lucius wasn’t ready and waiting to ambush him.

Closing the door behind the pets her son loved a great deal more than what she did, Lydia turns towards the fur army that lived with her, grabbing a towel from the basket that held the clean and dry towels of the dogs and began to dry the two large dogs. As soon as she’s done drying the dogs Lydia heads into the small kitchen, her movements followed closely by the dogs each one expecting a treat and of course getting one while she made sure the water bowls were full with fresh water.

Lydia was a little bit disappointed when she gazed up at the clock on the wall, she’d been down by the water longer than she’d planned and so was out of luck when it came to having a cup of tea before having to drive back into town and to the small school her son attended.

Moving back towards the front door, picking-up her car keys that sat in a small bowl which sat on-top of the old dresser, within this old dresser were shoes and coats not yet needed as well as a bunch of other things. Lydia paused for a moment there, her gaze fixated for a moment on the framed picture that sat next to the bowl of keys.

There’s a part of Lydia that doesn’t understand why she’d taken the few pictures that had survived the fire with her, that same part questioned why she’d placed them out so that both she and her son could see them.

Although Lydia had moved on, made a life of her own, Lydia still missed certain parts of her past life that was turned to ashes by the fires lit by hate. Lydia missed the financial security that being a Hale had provided her, not having to worry about paying for repairs and buying clothes and books that hadn’t yet been anyone else’s was something she missed. But most of all Lydia missed the people she’d lost in that horrible fire.

Lydia missed the long talks over cups of tea with her sister-in-law, the amazing foods she and her mother-in-law made in the large and fine kitchen of the house where they all lived together, she missed the kids and their energy and love. She missed the comfort of a large family, she missed the family-life that the Hale’s had offered her and could’ve offered her soon too under different circumstances.

Lydia couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness in her heart as she caught sight of the man she’d loved once and whom she’d married as soon as she turned eighteen. Peter may have been her way out of a bad situation, a hopeless situation, but she’d loved him and grew to love him even more with every passing day spent together. Lydia missed the man that Peter had been before the fire. The flames hadn’t only liked away at Peter’s skin and hair, they consumed the goodness of Peter and left behind a man scared and angry, a man suddenly cruel and hateful. The Peter that survived the fire wasn’t her Peter, his heart was cold and hard, and it didn’t take Lydia long to realize just how dangerous her husband had become.

Leaving Peter hadn’t been easy and if she’d had any hope of convincing Derek and Laura as well as Cora to come with her, she would’ve begged them to come with her, but the nieces and nephew of Peter would never have abandoned him and so she’d left on her own.

It hadn’t been easy, leaving what she’d believed back then to be the only family she had left, but Lydia had been afraid of her own life and so she ran. All she’d known at the time was that she had to get as far away from Peter before he hurt her beyond repair, all she had known as she drove as fast as she could out of Beacon Hills was that she had to escape Peter before he forced a change on her that she did not want.

Lydia had left Peter, unaware that she was pregnant with their child, a child she didn’t want to think had been created during a moment when Peter broke one of his promises to her. She’d of course forgiven her husband a few times, swallowing her tears and his tearful, “I’m sorry. I love you.” She’d forgiven him a few more times, believed his words to be true, until finally she just couldn’t do it anymore. Once finally finding the courage and will to leave, Lydia ran and for years she’d been terrified that Peter would find her; a month before running and months after she left her husband, Lydia had reasoned every attack of nausea was born from stress not once thinking she was pregnant.

Standing there, alone, with responsibilities Lydia had always imagined she’d share with her husband, Lydia knows that even if she’d been aware of the life growing inside her back then she would’ve still left.

Lydia could never have raised her son in an unhappy home, and above all else she didn’t want her child to growing-up thinking what Peter did to her was alright. But above else, Lydia wouldn’t have risked the safety of her child, since there was also a fear of how Peter would’ve reacted to having a plain-old human child instead of a superior being like himself.

The Peter she’d loved, the one she’d married, who had painted such lovely images of their future together with his words alone would’ve loved their son the way he was, but the one that emerged from the fire might’ve seen her son as a disappointment just because he wasn’t like Peter and his nieces and nephew. After the scared and angry Peter had done to her, the way he broke her down almost into nothing, Lydia was confident she made the right choice by keeping her son far from Peter.

Lydia had no doubts that keeping Peter in the dark about Stiles was the right choice.

Trying to shake off any at all thoughts about Peter and the Hale’s, Lydia turned around to face Hugo telling the dog he was in-charge while she was away, then without another word she battled the door and stepped out into the cold day.

It’s a short walk to her Jeep, the vehicle which was mostly held together by a great many rolls of duck-tape and possibly a few prayers and a great deal of luck. With every new strip of tape Lydia regretted selling the fancy car Peter had gifted her on her twentieth-birthday, but she’d had to get rid of the car and the money had been needed too. She really did miss having a car that worked without failure, and being able to pay for someone to fix it if the car did breakdown, but the Jeep had been the cheapest car she’d been able to find.

If she’d had the money the damn rust bucket would’ve been replaced by now by something more reliable, but as it was she couldn’t afford it.

`Please. Please. Please.´ Lydia chanted loudly as she slipped inside the car, `Don’t fail me now. ´ she whispered into the silent car, carefully sliding her key into place and turned it while breathing out, `Please, don’t fail Stiles today. ´

The uneven rumble, the almost human-like coughs that followed as the engine beneath the bonnet came to life and fought to keep going.

`Thank you. Thank you. ´ she positively sings to her car before kissing the steering wheel.

Of course, Lydia knew that one day the car wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t cough or hiccup into life, and couldn’t be fixed with some tape and that day would be a horrible day, but for now her little Jeep seemed willing to work with her.

Driving back into town Lydia hoped that luck would remain on her side and that her son had a pleasant day and that his teacher Gertrud Abrahams wouldn’t ask to have a private talk with her, Lydia was seriously starting to think about just home schooling her son since the teacher seemed incompetent when it came to handling her son. It seemed that nothing Stiles did was right according to the old crow-faced woman. If it wasn’t Stiles’ energy, his struggle to focus that got him into trouble with the tall and thin woman who seemed to prefer the colors brown and grey to other colors, for some strange reason Stiles already knowing the alphabet and how to write each letter just fine that rubbed the old woman the wrong way, the grandmother of four didn’t like the fact that Stiles hadn’t seen the point in writing a single letter, which he already could, over and over again and why he couldn’t just write the whole alphabet instead. It was very clear that the old woman had no understanding for Lydia’s son, her harsh actions often trigger Stiles’ panic attacks and of late her son seemed truly reluctant when it came to going to school. The happy and excited little boy, eager to go to school, was no more because of Gertrud Abrahams.

Sometimes Lydia wouldn’t have minded it all that much if her son hadn’t been blessed with her and Peter’s smarts and hunger for knowledge, it would’ve made her own life easier as well as that of Gertrud.

Stiles was a sharp little boy, and there was no denying it. Perhaps Lydia could’ve sabotage the hunger for knowledge her son had, but she simply couldn’t do such a thing, even if encouraging her son to learn more about all the things he was interested in meant she spent hours at the tiny library in town; not that Mr. Hamish had anything against having someone passionate about books and the knowledge they contained, if anything the man was always quick to inform her and her son of any new interesting books that had arrived, the man always set aside the latest books for her son.

Parking her Jeep outside the old wooden structure that looked very much like one of those old school houses from a bygone era, Lydia just hoped that this had been a good day for her son, and that instead of bitter-as-a-lemon Abrahams asking her to stay for a chat the old lady would just nod a hello at her.

Just as Lydia got out of her Jeep the surprisingly narrow door of the small building swung open, little kids carrying their lunchboxes and bookbags flooded out of the building, all eager to escape their teacher as fast as possible. Some of the little ones ran to their waiting parents or grandparents, some ran to their waiting older siblings; four of the little ones ran to the waiting minivan that was driven by Vera the cheerful woman who was the landlady of the Ship Wreck pub and Whispering Willow Inn, pretty much free of charge the short plump woman would drive the schoolkids to school and home. Like Vera the Horner brothers would chart the high school kids off to the mainland and back a couple of times a day, taking a small payment to help pay for fuel and nothing else since like most islanders they understood what community spirit meant; it was significantly cheaper to use the Horner twins than the fairy that came and went twice a day, it also ensured the money that was spent came back to use in the community one way or another.

Watching her own pride and joy slowly appear from within the building, Lydia immediately notices there’s no frown on his adorable little face, the second thing she notices is that Mrs. Abrahams was nowhere in sight. Lydia hurried to her only son, a child she hadn’t been sure she would keep when she’d learned she was pregnant, it wasn’t until very late in her pregnancy that she decided to keep her baby; it wasn’t until she held her son in her arms, feeling exhausted and overwhelmed that Lydia realized she could never abandon her child.

Life wasn’t easy, money was always tight, but thankfully her son didn’t care about the fact most of their things came second-hand, that none of their furniture matched or that most of toys were bought from yard-sales. She was lucky that her son didn’t ask her why they only had an old TV and a VCR, he never threw tantrums about the fact that the only movies and shows that were old and probably not the stuff other boys at school watched, she was very lucky indeed and Lydia knew it.

Lydia was lucky with how unspoiled her son was, since she knew it could’ve been worse. Her son of course wanted things, as any child did, but he also seemed to understand that keeping all of his beloved pets meant that some sacrifices needed to be made.

`Mama! ´ her son cried out excitedly the moment his big brown eyes caught sight of her, and as best he could he hurried to her waiting arms, clutching on tightly to his stuffed toy husky which Stiles always insisted was a wolf.

`There’s my beautiful boy. ´ she said, happiness making her voice light, while her arms scooped her only child into her arms, kissing his round little cheeks before kissing Wolfie hello too.

`Good day? ´ she asks her son while carrying him towards the Jeep, eager to get her child home before the dark clouds reached the island and letting another fall of heavy rain wash over the land.

Her son nodded excitedly and as she strapped him into his seat, handing him a juice box and a tiny bag of apple chips, her son went on to say cheerfully.

`Mrs. Abrahams is sick. ´

`Oh so that’s why you’re so cheerful today. ´ Lydia laughed as she checked to make sure her kid was secure in his seat, Stiles wasn’t only a clever little boy but he was also a Houdini in the making.

`Mr. Hale is awesome, ´ just hearing that name made her go perfectly still, her heart racing faster than she’d ever imagined it capable, `He didn’t make me write my P’s over and over and over again, Mama. He let me write all the letter’s big and small. ´

`Oh. That’s nice. ´ Lydia says voice uneven, her hands suddenly shaky.

`Very. ´ her son agreed putting one of the home-made apple chips into his tiny mouth, the apples that the old tree on their property provided weren’t all that great unless you baked them into pies, pressed them into juice, cooked and crushed them into jams or sliced them and baked them into chips.

`Lydia?´ she hears a male voice say not too far from where she’s standing with her son, a familiar voice from a past she’d attempted to forget all about, a past she’d ran from. She’s too afraid to turn around to face that voice, to even acknowledge it and so she closes the car door hastily, hearing her son happily calling out to the man standing behind her.

Lydia is ready and eager to head back behind the wheel and drive hastily back to the house. Lydia wanted suddenly nothing more than to grab a few things before trying to catch the next boat out of there.


End file.
